La Barrière des Langues
by Moka-girl
Summary: A girl is stranded in the Pitch Black universe. Seems familiar? Well, in this case, the mademoiselle would really like to return to her home country, France. She cannot understand a word of English, and has never heard of this 'Riddick' everyone seems so nervous about. Interested yet?
1. Chapter 1

**Unlike most self-inserts, this one won't have tons of advantages. Also, there will be romance but it's slow build. This mostly focuses on how canon changes when it comes to the first movie, Pitch Black. I'm using the events of the movies, as well as some of the background from the books. But, I will disregard some things, like the video game (that I haven't played), and other such things I haven't watched.**

**Usual disclaimer applies. I own nothing but what diverges from the movies and books. Those changes come out of my own brain. I am not paid or anything.**

-x-x-x-

I know the place is different. I can see the ground is grey, with little holes on it, not completely even. Metallic. That's why it's grey.

There are no walls, just tall, large plastic cases on each side. It's some sort of long corridor, and… there is a bit of light, but not enough to see where I am. I think I'm inside a giant metal container (or a room? A room with no windows that seems to be made out of metal?).

I can hear alarms blaring. Loudly. And… there are people, in the plastic cases.

A man is struggling awake. I can't see much, but I think he may be in pain. I go near the plastic box he is in, and try to find a way to open the box. There is a red handle. I pull it.

The door of the man's box opens violently, and he falls out, nearly squashing me.

Just as that happens, erm… particles? Yeah, particles, or bullets, or stones moving at high speeds. Well, anyway, particles go through the plastic case that I had liberated the man from. The particles fly past me and imbed themselves in some of the cases on the other side of the room.

"_Oh mon dieu..."_ I say, frightened.

A woman comes out of another of the plastic cases. It seems to have opened on its own. She doesn't look like she knows what's happening.

The man I helped escape from his case is standing up. I can see that he has greyish hair, and the hairline is receding. He has a white moustache that reminds me of my granddad. He seems to be somewhere in his late forties, or early fifties.

He appears quite perturbed, looking around himself. He doesn't know what's happening either, from what I can see.

He says something, but I don't understand. It's in English.

"We shouldn't be awake," he repeats.

I can't speak English.

The man talks with the woman who came out, but, still, I don't quite get what is happening. He tries to speak to me, but I just look at him blankly. After a few seconds, he realizes I am of no help, and he leaves.

The alarms in this place are hurting my head.

This whole thing reminds me of something about the Nazis, in the second world war. They would round up the Jews and put them in a room supposed to be a large shower-room, but it would turn out that it's a place designed to kill all the Jews by gassing them to death with a toxic gas, while the Nazis are chilling just outside.

This place reminds me of that. There are plastic cases containing one person each, and small bullets have gone through quite a few cases already, killing the ones inside each of them.

Are there people outside, shooting?

I follow the old man and the woman into some large room, a control centre of sorts.

The woman grabs some suits, gives one to the old man I helped, and puts one on herself, on top of what she is already wearing.

Just as they do so, another man comes in the room to join us. He seems to be dressed like the two others, the two I am with, and I think they… _work_, in this strange place. They are dressed like they could be colleagues.

So now, without counting myself, there are two men, and a woman.

The man I helped looks like he's the boss of the two others, and seems very worried. He's sitting at some sort of… uh… he's sitting on a chair, with a panel in front of him, and dozens of little buttons and glowy things and screens showing incomprehensible stuff in the panel.

It's like the pilot of an airplane. In that place where he flies the plane. The cock-pit, maybe? Argh, I don't know the name of every different part of a plane! Basically, this reminds me of the room the pilot of a plane would be in, filled with tons of buttons and things that only he knows how to use.

"Owens," the old man orders. "Open the side-gates, and slow us down!"

And I still can't understand anything. Does anyone speak French in this strange place?

Suddenly, the old man I saved pushes something, a button maybe (I don't quite know what it is, but it's shaped like a button) and it opens a gigantic window in front of us.

I realize then, the magnitude of what has happened to me. I haven't simply awoken in a strange place filled with plastic boxes. I've awoken far from home, from my country.

How do I know that?

Because, well, it might seem a bit surprising, but right in front of me…

I can see a planet. Uhm… Very big. And it seems we're falling down towards it. And… unlike Earth, it doesn't appear to have any blue anywhere. Er… No water. Only land. No ocean.

Yeah. Other planet. Is the shock getting to you too?

One of the two men, not the one I helped, but the other, the younger one who joined us a bit later. That one.

Well, he pushes me out of the room, back towards where there the other plastic cases are, where I woke up.

"It's not safe here," he says.

I just stare blankly, physically conveying 'What?'

Meanwhile, the woman and the old man I helped are sitting down, panicking, trying to do something.

I've realized now that something is wrong. We're probably crashing down on this planet I just glimpsed.

I think this is like in one of those clichés, where a character wakes up in an unfamiliar environment, often a whole other world. Ever seen a movie with something like that happening?

I don't recognize any of this, but… I do believe we're supposed to survive past this crash, if this is indeed like in one of those movies. After all, if not for something interesting to happen, I really wouldn't know why some sort of person or higher being decided to drop me here, in a place that reminds me of the movie Titatic, but a futuristic version, instead of the old cruise boat. Here, the boat would be replaced by… a spaceship? Yes, a spaceship. That's what I'm on.

No. I should be saying 'that's what I'm _in'_.

…

…

Grrrr… this is making my head turn. Which is it? On? In?

Whatever.

Anway, I'm left where I woke up, with plastic cases on each side, and some of them have holes in them, with the person inside, dead. I do not like the fact that I am forced to stay here, because that means that if any of the little strange bullets that cut through the cabin, uh, come again to drill holes in everything, I might die. After all, I am in the line of fire.

I'm walking along the different parts of the room, and I see that the gigantic room I'm in isn't the only room. There's a door, easy enough to open, that I can get past, and on the other side, is a room identical to the one I came from, with just as many plastic cases.

It is difficult to walk, because I think the… spaceship? Yeah, I think the spaceship I'm in is at a sick angle or something? Because I really can't walk properly, and I'm constantly stumbling as everything moves. It must be the ship that is shifting.

And no, I am not drunk and incapable of walking. I do not drink alcohol, so I know it is the truth when I blame this spaceship on my inability to walk straight.

I can't hear much except for the alarms. I try to block my ears, but it doesn't work much. I can see several more plastic cases now, and one looks different from the others.

It has a man in it, and he seems to be _restrained_ in some way, his arms tied up. With… some kind of, uh, a metal bit wedged in his mouth. And… because of it, I can see his teeth. He has a perpetual grimace, because of the bit.

Ew, he looks scary.

There is something written on the plastic of his case…

_Sigh._

Why do I even call these things 'cases'? I should be truthful about what I think.

So, _truthfully_, to me they look more like transparent coffins. And… well, anyway.

On the plastic, or the glass, or whatever the coffin (box?) is made out of, there's something written:

_LOCK-OUT PROTOCOL IN EFFECT. ABSOLUTELY NO EARLY RELEASE._

I realize the language it's in is English, but unfortunately, like I mentionned a great many times already, I cannot speak English.

I've lived all my life in France, and can only speak French and a bit of Italian. I have learnt some German, and English at school, but frankly, I was never the best student of my class, and because of that, I cannot understand what is written on the plastic coffin.

If this is what I think it is, I've probably been dropped in some world, like you see in movies, where the character will have to help people, or help with a rebellion, or some similar thing. That's what always happens.

Telling myself that the events happening to me are similar to the plot of a movie helps me keep the panic at bay.

Ideally, I'd run around shrieking, begging for my mum. But I'm surrounded by unknown people, most of them asleep in glass (plexiglass?) coffins, and I can't help but feel that if I were to break down sobbing, they'd wake up.

The idea of crying in front of unknown people is so embarrassing that it forces me to calm down in order to avoid that fate. That is the great anti-stress, calming technique I use to control my breathing. I think 'you do not want people to see you scared', and that motivates me enough to calm myself down.

This man, prisoner really, that is in front of me, is probably… I dunno, a slave? Yeah.

In stories like this there are often slaves or oppressed people that are at the bottom of the food chain, and considering the size of his muscles, he's probably a slave that does a lot of manual work, and he has to be tied up when he isn't working, so he doesn't attack anyone.

I imagine a mean 'master' ordering him around, threatening to do something terrible to his family if he doesn't obey, and having him tied up whenever he's sleeping or taking a break.

Poor guy.

Of course, I am entirely unaware of the fact that there is a very good reason why he is tied up.

I can see that some people are awake, in their plastic coffins. Some of them manage to come out. I don't know if there's… maybe a button, or a latch inside that allows them to come out without outside help. But, yeah. There's some Asian-looking guy that comes out. Japanese, maybe? Another guy who's blonde comes out too, and goes up to stare at the coffin with the imprisoned slave in it.

Some guy with black skin, dressed a bit like one of those arab people, seems to be waking up too, but hasn't escaped his coffin yet.

Suddenly, the whole places trembles, and I fall down on my butt. I can see that the Japanese guy is holding on to one of the plastic cases. It's an empty one, so it's either his own, or Blondie's.

Strangely, said blonde guy has a weapon in hand a gun. Why does he have a weapon? I would be scared, if it wasn't for the fact that he doesn't appear menacing, but worried.

He's staring pretty intently at the tied-up guy. Either he's the slave's owner, or there is a lot of homoerotic tension going on here.

... I'm hoping it's the former.

The room changes, shifting, as if the ship is rotating and finally, I can walk on the floor correctly. The floor is perpendicular to the force of gravity, like it should be. It's at a correct angle, allowing me to stand up without falling. It is no longer at the sick angle it was before.

I'm happy, and I can feel that we're slowing down, moving less, which means that someone has finally managed to control the descent of the ship.

What I don't know, of course, is that right now we are landing, perfectly safely, because the captain (that I saved) has more talent than a certain Carolyn Fry.

I feel very happy, of course, but I still don't know where I am, what's happening, and why I saw us heading for an ocean-less planet, instead of seeing my country, or even my home-planet!

I am not aware of what has changed, of the fact that we are about fifty people instead of ten, like in the Pitch Black movie.

I do not know that unlike in the movie, we haven't crashed, and haven't lost all those forty lives.

So… a lot of people to keep alive on a planet filled with flesh-eating predators. Hm. Quite the challenge.

Anyway, this is how my story starts.

I could give you lots of additional information, but let us face it: most of it I only learnt or realized later, when I was able to speak more English and interact with people, ask questions.

Right now, I'm simply confused, somewhere I shouldn't be, and… well, frankly, I miss my bed.

I'm supposed to be waking up right now, and getting ready to go to school.

Instead, I appear to be… _hehe_, in what seems to be a _spaceship_, of all things. Like some sort of movie. I'm waiting for somebody to come up and tell me:

"Hey, girl, you've been chosen for this quest, or whatever, to save these people from this tyrannical Emperor/President/Dictator."

Because… isn't that how it always happens in the movies?

Except, I never thought I would have to be able to speak English to understand what's happening.

Why English? Damn it, at least if it had been German, I might had understood a bit more! I have such bad grades when it comes to English! I really hope someone speaks French on this ship.


	2. Chapter 2

**In France, as well as most French-speaking countries, we call PE (physical exercise) 'Gym'. Once you're in college, it changes to 'Sports', but everyone still says gym. That's why this character mentions gym at some point. She does not take artistic gymnastic classes. She's talking about the sport at school.**

**Thanks to shadowoftheblackdeat, Alyce DreamEater, and an unnamed guest for their wonderful reviews.**

**My first review was from shadowoftheblackdeat, my bestie! Hugs to you, friend!**

**As you can see, the main character comes across as a snobby girl who loves to use big words to make herself feel superior. She does have more depth than that, but for now she'll mostly come across as a girl convinced the world revolves around her. Of course, she'll see that's not the case soon enough, especially when she meets Riddick. ;)**

-x-x-x-

It turns out the name of the man I saved is Ulf Thorsten, captain of the... I think the name of the ship is something along the lines of 'Huntah Gratuh'.

Don't mock my accent. It's not my fault I don't understand a word of English.

After we land, Ulf has us all go outside. Some people, who have just come out of their plastic coffins, still seem half-asleep. The fact that we are outside makes it easier for me to finally see where we are.

I look around and the first thing I notice is that I'm in some sort of desert.

Not Sahara-type desert with lots of sand, but a desert in which the ground is just so dry that nothing grows there. That type of desert. And it doesn't even look nice. The place is _ugly_.

Forgot to mention, but there are… two suns.

...

...

Yeah.

Two suns, which the planet I'm on is orbiting around.

It is veeeeery... _shocking,_ to say the least.

So anyway, this really drives home the fact that nothing I have lived (with the whole spaceship thing) is a joke. I'm not on Earth anymore.

I will attempt to stay calm about this whole situation.

We are being organized into groups right now. The captain is putting us all together and counting us, I think. He's probably counting us to see if anyone is missing or dead.

I'm standing between that Japanese guy that I saw earlier, inside the spaceship, and some kid wearing a turban. I think he's picking his nose.

I try to subtly lean away from the disgusting kid, but I think he noticed. He glares at me, as if I was the one indulging in repulsive habits.

Ugh, children these days.

I'm really, _really_ hot, and I'm just happy that I'm not wearing long sleeves. Back home, it's summer. Despite that, I tend to wear many layers during that season, as I do during the whole year, generally. Not for any reason… I just like feeling covered. It's comforting to me.

So I'm lucky I'm wearing shorts, leggings and a tee-shirt. As well as a very thin jacket.

My clothes are all in light colours and I'm not sure that's a good thing, because I know that people who live in deserts tend to dress in very dark colours. I don't know why but I think, considering they'd know more about how to live in the desert than me, that it means my lightly coloured clothes put me at a disadvantage.

Luckily, I have some water in my bag (at least I won't die of thirst anytime soon), as well as other things… like my school stuff. Heh. Bit useless right now.

I have some water, but I'm not taking it out right now. I'm in an unfamiliar environment and frankly, imagine if this is some sort of world where there's very little water, and constant wars between various groups/countries/planets for some of it. I might be mobbed if these people see me with some. I've done school projects on the status of water in the future for my geography class, and I know that wars over water are entirely possible and _will_ happen in the future, on Earth, as our population increases and pollution continues.

This desertic planet doesn't seem to have any source of water, so it is entirely possible I am correct with the 'wars over water' theory.

I'll drink some of my water later on, when I'm alone.

Oh. I notice now that the captain is coming out with some bottles of water. Huh. That means that I can probably take out mine without encountering any trouble.

Ulf knows that I cannot speak English (well, it is pretty apparent), so he just shoves a water bottle in my hands.

"Thank you," I say, knowing how to say that much.

I can't exactly inform him of the fact that I already have some, and I feel too tired to open my bag and look through tons of things just to fish out my bottle and show it to him.

So… I'll just pretend I have no water. More for me, right?

He also gives us some food, to me and the other survivors of the crash, but it's really, really, really icky stuff, like what astronauts eat. No taste and it's… just so bland that it turns out to be disgusting and impossible to stomach. I don't eat much of it.

The people next to me, though, seem to have no problem consuming it.

Everybody's pretty much talking, some are looking around, and I think that blonde woman, who helped the captain land the ship… I think she's announcing something to us all. I don't really know what she is saying, but I nod in a sufficiently convincing 'knowing' manner, as if I understand her words.

The ones around me seem to understand, and, I mean, I'm just one girl in the middle of a crowd of, what, thirty? … forty? …fifty? Anyway, I'm in a large crowd of people, and she won't notice that I am not listening.

After that speech she makes, there's nothing to say, really.

People scatter. Some go back inside the ship, others sit on the ground… There's a group that sits down in a circle, with a packet of cards. The cards are a bit strange, translucent, and different pictures are on display. I don't think it's a game in which the opponent mustn't know what cards you have. These are see-through, and such a game would be impossible. How do they play stuff like poker with those? The opponent would easily be able to see what cards you have!

I'd be very interested in trying to learn this game despite the language barrier, but right now I'm having an internal panic attack due to having landed in a very distant future, so it will have to be postponed until further changes.

Time travel. Seriously, I never believed it to be possible. The concept is fascinating, yes, but physically I know it is impossible. Perhaps one day we will find a way to make the impossible possible, but I know that such an idea, that _time travel_, exists only in fiction. Though, considering the fact that I am in the future, it is possible that in this time, time-travel is possible, and they brought someone to the future as a test? That someone would be me, of course. And maybe they had somehow brought me to this ship? But my theory has holes in it, like the fact that if it were true, I'd have appeared in a laboratory with time-travel devices, not in the middle of a spaceship. It seems a bit too bizarre to me.

Ugh. I have no way of explaining what has happened to me. Obviously it is not some joke - everything is too real for that, and even with all the money in the world, I don't think it's possible to come up with such a convincing decor.

Two suns, for Pete's sake!

With nothing left to do, I decide to return inside the ship. I'm feeling a bit bored now that all the excitement is gone. To be frank, I've always belonged to the group of girls who hope that one day some adventure will occur, with them as the main character. I've often written short stories in which some character or another ends up in a completely unfamiliar world and is set on a quest of some sort that only he or she can complete. Whenever I think of adventure, I think of that.

This is quite the disappointment. This situation, I mean. The crash was the most interesting thing to happen, and despite the fact that there are varied people here (some are dressed in very Lady Gaga-ish ways that I am not surprised to find in a futuristic world)...

Well, despite it all, I am still disappointed. I am waiting for some sort of obstacle or opponent, or the person who shot at the ship to appear. Anything to spice things up.

If I am living my own adventure, surely the gods could have the kindness to make this slightly more intellectually stimulating.

So, right now I am inside the ship. I walk along the rooms in which those boxes (coffins) are, and I go to that main room, the navigation room, where the captain and his blonde assistant were an hour or two earlier, landing this ship.

The captain is there. He must have returned here while I wasn't looking at him.

He is using a small device and talking to it. I believe it is either a phone or a radio. He is probably calling for help, though I cannot be sure.

He stops talking as soon as he notices I am there. He says a final word to the radio. I believe it is the English word '_over_'? And then he turns to me.

He looks very happy. Disturbingly so. It does not suit his face. His face is the kind that is supposed to look serious all the time. It's not made for smiles. He bends down to retrieve something on the floor. I can't quite make out what it all is.

It's a pile of tubes of some sort. Really thick, about as thick as a broom handle, and made out of several metal parts, so that it can be bendable. Though, judging by how easy it is for the captain to carry them, I believe they probably aren't metal. They must have been painted silver.

I mean, metal is supposed to be a bit heavier than that. Or, considering that this is (from what I've seen) a futuristic world, it is possible that people here are genetically modified to be stronger, which would explain how the captain can carry all those tubes, if they _are_ made of metal.

He hands them to me, and I open my arms, feeling a bit against the idea of carrying these heavy things. But when I finally get a hold of them, I realize that there is no genetic modification at work. These tubes are simply light.

He says something, and I realize I can actually understand a word in it:

Oxygen.

I have noticed that on this planet there seems to be less air. I had difficulties breathing outside, and just before, while listening to the blonde woman, I felt as if I had just run, or been in gymnastics class.

I nod as I did with the blonde woman, earlier. He probably won't notice the fact that I haven't understood a word he said. It is strange, considering he realized while in the ship, half an hour earlier, that I am unable to speak English. (How I regret never applying myself to school. It could have come in handy right now.)

Maybe, considering how many people there are here, he forgot about me, and my poor language skills?

No. I do not believe so. After all, I am the one who saved him. Had it not been for me, he would surely be dead.

Captain Ulf points towards the doors of the room, and I think that either he wants me to head to one of those rooms filled with coffins, or he wishes me to exit the ship, and... maybe give these tubes to somebody? Since I do not know what he wants, I decide to just start walking, and hopefully I'll know when the time is right to stop... and do something with the tubes.

I leave the navigation room and enter one of the coffin-rooms. There are two people in the room. One is a man, really tall, and his skin is quite strange. It has a _purple _tint. And his hair... it's not hair at all. It seems to be some sort of thick... well, the only thing I can think of is saying that his hair resembles thick dreadlocks, but they don't seem to be made out of hair. I don't quite know how to describe it. Also, he is wearing very little clothing.

I turn away, trying to ignore how indecent he is. Judging by how comfortable he looks, it is probably normal fashion for him, or for the era.

A bit further away is a woman. She is dressed with more articles of clothing, and in a way that I can recognize, a fashion from back home. There is a black blouse, and trousers. It is strange to think that blouses are still popular, considering I am most likely in a future several centuries away from my time.

I look around the room, wondering if I am supposed to do something with the metal tubes here, but nothing stands out, so I continue walking.

I leave the spaceship, instantly blinded by the light of the two suns. I am hot again, and I really wish all these people will find a way for us to leave this planet soon.

The metal things are handed over to the blonde woman. She seems to know what is happening, and will probably be of more use than myself and my cluelessness.

She offers them to people, one set per person, and I see them put the tubes around themselves, attaching them to their bodies. They hold on to the end of their metal tubes/cords. It is slightly thicker, shaped like a container. They put it in their mouths, and judging by the sound I hear, these containers are indeed filled with oxygen. Though I wonder how these tubes, with their flimsy containers, can hold enough oxygen to be remotely useful. Must be futuristic stuff that makes it possible.

The blonde woman gives me one, and I try to attach it like I see the others do. Unfortunately, I am not successful. The blonde woman helps me. I do not feel very comfortable. I don't overly like being treated like a child when it comes to such simplistic things.

She says something to me in English.

I see the realization appear on her face, the moment of 'oh yes, doesn't speak English'. She has remembered.

She points at herself and says: "Carolyn."

That is comprehensible. It is undoubtedly her name.

The woman then adds: "Fry."

Her name is Carolyn Fry.


	3. Chapter 3

**I must thank shadowoftheblackdeat, Alyce DreamEater and Kihlala Sisters for their kind reviews. Hugs to you guys!**

**In this chapter, we finally see Riddick! What has long been awaited has finally come!**

-x-x-x-

Unfortunatly, we do find some corpses. Remember those strange bullets that had been cutting through the walls of the ship while I had been helping the captain out of his plexiglass coffin? Well, it seems like some of them cut through the coffins of some other passengers. There are two bodies - one is a young woman, asian by the looks of it, and with a slightly crooked nose. The other one is a man, with light skin and sandy hair. He looks like he could have been an attractive man, had he been alive.

Two men start making a makeshift bed of some kind, with handles they can grasp. They place the bodies on them, and stand up. One of them, an old black man in his fifties, has a shovel in hand. The other one, a younger man that looks distinctively like the first, has a pick-axe. What is it for? Hitting people?

Together, they carry the bodies away, and I follow them, lacking anything else to do. They don't say anything against my presence, so I think that means I am allowed to come. We walk for five-ten minutes, until we arrive at a part of the desert with many big rocks and monoliths (or are they called polyliths, since there are several?) that form small hills and walls here and there.

It doesn't change that much from the environment around the ship, but still, better than nothing, right?

And I finally discover what the pick-axe is for.

The two men start digging. The tall man does so with a proper shovel, but the younger one uses the pick-axe.

It's peculiar, this is. I'm supposed to be in a futuristic world, and yet, from what I've seen, a lot of the technology is recognizable from my own time. I'd have thought that something would've been invented, capable of digging holes in a matter of seconds, so you do not need to do it yourself.

Anyway, I am bored after a while of watching them dig, and I really, truly wish to return to the spaceship (Hee-hee, am I going insane, considering how accepting I am of the situation? Really, a _spaceship_) except my sense of direction is amongst the worst you can find, especially when I truly need it, and I'm convinced I will end up lost in the desert if I venture out alone.

So I am pretty much forced to wait as they dig what are evidently graves for the two dead bodies. Once it is done, they don't bother saying anything, or adding an Amen or offering a minute of silence. They just dump the bodies in. I think that in this place, this world, this time, people probably don't view religion as people do in my time. For example, in the Middle Ages, everyone was devout. Now, many people don't believe in anything at all. It is not surprising that in the 'future', people would loose most of their faith. So that is why I say nothing about the lack of respect. It could be worse. For example, they could have left the bodies to rot, without a proper burial or cremation.

At least people here aren't savages. Imagine, I could have ended up in the distant past, and that would not have been fun.

As I have said, they dump the bodies in without saying much. They put some of the dry earth back on top of the bodies, but don't make much of an effort to fill the graves. Instead, they set up a sort of tent-like cover to protect the bodies from the sun. They probably do not want any bodies to rot.

I try not to think about the fact that they haven't filled the graves because they are probably expecting more bodies to pop up.

We walk back towards the ship. The younger man is drinking a lot of water, and I can see beads of sweat clinging to his face. Digging graves must be exhausting. He looks nice. He reminds me of a guy in my school class, back at home. But this man's skin is dark, and his hair is cut extremely short, to the point that you might believe him bald, and of course, he looks older than me. Probably in his late twenties.

The older man isn't drinking. He's simply drawing oxygen from the cylindrical end of his metal tube (one of those I carried over to Carolyn Fry).

Once we're back at the site of the landing of the spaceship, the two black skinned men leave without saying anything to me. I feel a bit offended at that, because even though I did not help them with the digging, I was still there, and I would have thought they'd acknowledge me. But I do not say anything, and instead decide to go inside the ship. It's very hot outside, and I'd rather just stay inside where the shade is.

Most people aren't doing that. They are these deckchairs with people on them, placed just about everywhere. Some people are on towels, lying on the ground,w ith sunglasses on, sleeping under the sun. Others, dressed like the captain and the Carolyn Fry woman (some sort of employees working as part of the ship's crew?), are walking around, serving drinks and snacks to the people lounging about.

The drinks are very colourful and bright, but I do not ask for any, fearing that there might be alcohol in them. Despite beign eighteen, and of legal age to drink alcohol in my country, I do not indulge in drinking. I've always disliked the taste of alcohol drinks of any kind. The only one I like is a drink called Pastis, because it has a taste that reminds me of licorice, which is one of my favourite sweets.

I pass by some of the stewards (or waiters?) serving refreshments, and I enter the ship.

The spaceship is really quite large, and there is a lot to see. I go from room to room, and I notice that most of them are chambers filled with the see-through coffins. I return to the navigation bay, where, if you'll remember, the captain was when he landed the ship. The navigation bay possesses all of the ship's controls.

Speaking of, the captain is here. He's speaking into a radio I think, or perhaps a phone. He might be talking to someone or calling for help, for someone to come retrieve us? Well, who knows. I'm lost in the middle of no where, or at least, somewhere I am unfamiliar with, surrounded by people I do not know, and I have no money nor food. Even if we manage to leave this terribly hot planet, I am sure that where we'll end up will not be much bettter, considering I don't even have any ID or proof I exist here.

I leave the captain to his conversation with whoever is on the other side of the line, and continue along the different rooms.

There are some more chambers filled with coffins, and I must admit I am starting to become bored of them. So, when I see a little door off to the side of one of the chambers, a door that wasn't in the other rooms, I open it and find myself in a room filled with hanging cables and machinery. I think it's not supposed to be accessible to visitors. This room is where all the inside bits of the ship are, and is probably only a place where engineers are allowed.

I should leave, really. But at that very moment, I hear noise. As I approach, I realize it is not exactly noise, but a voice. A male voice.

I do not know who it belongs to. I do not speak English, which everyone seems to here, and I do not know anybody well enough. I don't think I'd be able to recognize the voice of the captain or of Caroly Fry is they were to talk nearby, but without be seeing it was them.

Slowly, I inch forward.

The voice doesn't seem very nice. It has a quality to it that reminds me of bullies, of downright mean people. It's as if this voice, this person speaking is taunting someone.

I peek over a large rectangular metallic box that has wires coming out of it, and I see a familiar blonde man. It's the one I saw come out of his coffin earlier, while the ship was falling towas the planet we're now on. He's the one that had been staring in a really intense way at the slave, tied up and gagged.

As I look closer, I notice that the blonde man is actually talking to said slave. What a coincidence! The slave is no longer in his coffin. Instead, he's been tied up again a steel collumn. I Wonder if I should do anything. I see that the blonde man is still talkin, and it looks like he receives a sick pleasure out of talking like that to the slave. From what I understand of the situation, he's either insulting the gagged man, or using the fact that he is free, unlike the slave, to mock the poor man.

It continues like that for a few moments, until the blonde one stops speaking. I then realize that he is heading towards me. His intention is to leave the room, because apparently he's done doing whatever he was doing.

Quickly, I open the door, happy it's well oiled and silent. I close it behind me and hide in one of the coffins. They are made of glass, meaning they don't hide me at all, but even if the blonde man sees me, he'd probably think I'm a kid having fun fooling around with them, and not someone who just spend five minutes spying on him.

Luckily for me, he comes out and doesn't bother looking around himself for other people. He just continues towards the general direction of the way out of the ship. Once I'm sure he's gone, I get out of the big coffin and head back towards the door the blond man has just come out of . I place my hand on the handle of the door, and wonder:

Should I go in? Or should I not?

Finally, after looking left and right, I decide to enter the room. i am careful to not make any unnecessary noise. I'm not sure I'm allowed to go in here. I close the door behind me and let my eyes adjust to the level of lighting. I step forward, weaving between different boxes, bits of machinery and tangles of wires until I arrive near the tied-up man. He doesn't say anything. He simply cocks his head to the side.

I would have been surprised if he said anything, considering he's still gagged. At best, he can emit a grunt or two.

Poor man.

If I could, I would have undone his bindings to let him go free. Unfortunately he is in shackles and I do not have any way of helping him with that. Also, I'd rather no one be angry at me if I let a random slave regain freedom. After all, he doesn't _belong_ to me.

I wonder if he's even been fed, or if any water was given to him. Considering the fact that most people were given these oxygen tanks things… and, it's obvious this ma isn't wearing one. He can't exactly wear one easily with how restrained he his.

Is he thirsty? Does anyone even care? I cannot speak English, I know, but there are some words that I know. I decide to use one of them in an attempt to communicate.

"Hello," I say.

What? Don't look at me like that! I never claimed to be the most loquacious individual around!

Of course, he doesn't answer my meagre attempt at conversation. It's not like he can.

I walk towards him and use some more of my rudimentary English.

"You okay?" I ask.

I zip open my bag and retrieve a bottle of water. The bag, as you can remember, contains water and school effects.

Carefully, I open the bottle and approach the man. He doesn't move, so I figure it's okay. I bring the water to his face. Knowing I don't want to frighten the poor guy, I offer him a warning:

"Watuhr."

Gosh, my accent must be horrendous.

And then, I pour some of the contents of my bottle on his nose, lips and on the bit hindering his ability to talk. I can see he's grateful, because he moves his lips a bit, hopefully to catch more water.

He looks a bit frightening, with the grimace to bit forces onto his face.

After I've given him about a quarter of my bottle, I stop pouring and close it, turning the lid to ensure nothing comes out and soaks my bag.

And then I say:

"Good now."

As you can see (and hear), my English is distinctively and definitively unimpressive. I used to have a better level, but I didn't really continue working on my English much, due to being very occupied these last years. I never bothered to listen to or read anything English, and my skills in the language have deteriorated because of that.

Since the man has had enough, I feel a bit better, knowing that despite how terrible this guy's life must be as a slave, at least he has received something to drink. He will not be dying of dehydration.

"Bye-bye," I tell him, and leave.

Of course, I could be wrong, and he might not be a slave, but I find it very unlikely. The only other reason he could be tied up is if he is a prisoner, and no sane person would keep a prisoner amongst civilians, on a spaceship that looks like it's for tourists. That's like a policeman taking a criminal to jail in a public transportation, instead of a police car! This world is obviously futuristic, so even if this man was a criminal or some sort of traitor or super-spy, I don't believe he would have been kept near normal people, on this vessel. So that is how I know that he must be a slave – it is not unheard of, in sci-fi stories, to have slavery making a come-back.

It makes sense. So why do I have this sinking feeling that I did something I shouldn't have?


	4. Chapter 4

_I'd like to thank my reviewers: shadowoftheblackdeat, Quiet Slumber, Flowerchild23 and two anonymous people. I love you guys, and each of your comments are highly appreciated._

_Yes, my updates are generally weekly ones. I usually update every Monday, though sometimes I feel nice and decide to publish on a Sunday instead. These next two weeks will follow this rule, however at the beginning of the next month I'm leaving to spend a month in China for my education. I'm not sure if I'll bring my computer along (I'm deathly afraid something might happen to it), and even if I do, I don't know if I'll have the time to write (since I'll be studying Mandarin non-stop) or if I'll have internet to post anything. So I'm warning you guys that I don't know what will happen next month. Hopefully this update, as well as the next two, will be good enough for you guys to not be too disappointed if it turns out there won't be any updates at all next month._

_Oh, and we have some Riddick here too! The main character completely butchers his name, because she doesn't know how to write 'Riddick'. :P_

_I'm very ver sorry. I was so completely sure I had posted this yesterday, but turns out I got it wrong. Funny, I woke up this morning thinking 'hey, how come I didn't get even one hit?'. I was wondering what went wrong. I hope you guys appreciate this chapter, I wrote it yesterday morning in one go! Had a lot of inspiration._

-x-x-x-

Because I have already lived my fair share of shocking events today, I ignore the third sun that has appeared in the sky, and pretend it is nothing new. Truthfully, I am still screaming inside, and I have been for a while, but after some time, unexpected happenings like these don't have much of an effect anymore. I've become used to it all, I think.

I notice, as I leave the ship, that nearly all the people that had been sunbathing just outside the ship have moved to some other place. After some searching, I finally hear them, and look up. _Ah_. They've all converged on the roof of the ship, sitting on chairs, discussing and talking with drinks in their hands.

They don't see very worried about being stranded on a desertic planet, so I assume someone is coming to retrieve and help us come off this place. Because... these people would've seemed more frightened if nobody could come here and help us, and if their lack of fright means that we can leave anytime, I don't know why we aren't doing so now. So I presume there's a problem with the ship. It does look a bit damaged here and there, and I assume it isn't safe to fly with. So we will probably have someone come retrieve us.

Since I don't know what else to do, I decide to join the group of people on the roof. I try and place my bag in a way that'll ensure it doesn't fall off, and climb up on a ladder that's been conveniently placed on the side of the ship. It takes me a bit longer than I'd like, and I struggle a bit with the task of climbing up. That's mostly due to the fact that I am not very... I don't... I don't really practice any sports or anything, and my muscles aren't in the best of shapes. Luckily I am not fat or overweight, but I still don't look like I possess much body-strength.

"_Fait chier_," I grumble when I nearly fall.

Nobody actually looks at me as I climb up, with is helpful. Had they been looking, I would've felt pressurized into climbing faster. I join the group, and since there are not many seats, I'm forced to sit down on the metal of the ship. At least I'm not the only one forced to do so. I would've felt awkward if everyone was sitting on a chair, and I was the only one down on the ground (well, the roof of the ship).

I sit next to the blonde woman from before, the Fry one. I think her name was Caroline? Carole? Uhhh... I think I've forgotten.

Strangely enough, the metal of this ship isn't hot - I would've thought that the metal would be boiling with these three suns and the extraordinary heat of this place. But the metal feels cool. It's probably futuristic technology that is the reason for this. Maybe something that enables metal to keep at normal temperature? That would probably explain why this ship can survive crossing space without becoming a gigantic block of ice when there isn't a sun within the vicinity, and it also explains how the ship broke into the atmosphere of this planet at high speeds without bursting into flames.

These people around me are talking and I don't really know what's happening. I look around me and I don't see many familiar faces. Well, duh. It's not like I had the time to make many friends here.

I notice the two black guys I followed around earlier; they are here.

I gently tug at the blonde woman's arm, and I try to explain to her, no, to _ask_ her, with my pathetic amount of English: What's happening?

"What, er... why now? What _se passe_ now?"

She doesn't understand much, but what she does is call a man over, who looks a bit older than her. She says something to him, and he looks at me with an expectant gaze. Since I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do, I repeat my questions to him, using a bizarre mix of English and French words, hoping the message will be understandable.

And then, as if my magic, he opens his mouth to talk, and _French_ comes out.

"_Vous parlez français?_"

Well, yeah, it's not the best French there is. He has an accent that makes me wince, and he uses his _déterminants_ all wrong, but I can understand him!

I feel so happy... but not happy enough to hug him. I don't know him enough, and randomly hugging someone would be weird, and not necessarily socially acceptable.

He talks to me, and he seems to have a bit of trouble finding the right words when it comes to answering my questions. What I am told, basically, is that the ship is full of passengers going to some place called 'Nee-oo Meka', and I'm not sure if that supposed to be a planet, a city or a solar system, but I don't bother asking that, considering it unimportant. He also tells me that people are coming to retrieve everyone here, since the ship is, like I guessed, unable to fly. Well, not in any safe way, and the captain has sent a message to his superiors, and they told him to wait there because he would be risking too many lives if he were to decide to fly the ship anyway, with us on it. I also hear that in about an hour or so, these 'rescuers' will be there.

I don't how to explain to him I lack proper identification that the 'rescuers' might ask for, but somehow... I don't know how this French-speaking guy does it, but he sees the problem and he points at a young boy nearby and tells me that yes, this one is in the same situation. From what he tells me afterwards, I think he believes I'm some sort of runaway. He doesn't seem overly bothered by the ID thing. So probably that means that this futuristic world doesn't care much about that.

It's strange, because back at home you need a passport to travel anywhere, and I've always thought that the future would be some sort of place where everything is under tight control, with cameras everywhere, and all events are on the internet within seconds. You wouldn't be able to make a single mistake without everyone knowing. Murder and rape would be at an all-time low, since the criminal would be caught immediately, what with the constant surveillance thing.

I see the future as a place where there is a distinct lack of privacy and freedom.

This world... actually proves I was wrong with my predictions. I think that somewhere along the line, humanity must've decided they wanted to keep their privacy, because I haven't seen a single camera here. It's possible that they are too small to be noticed, but I doubt that. Nobody ever asked for my ID, or for me to prove I was a passenger on this ship. If I had to show them a ticket, I'd be in major trouble. After discussing with this man, I have the impression the that future is much more free than the past, and much less rigid and strict on protocol.

He tells me a few more things. He likes speaking a lot about this woman he likes, that he will be seeing in the 'Nee-oo Meka'. After some time, I just stop listening. i am grateful, of course, that someone speaks French here, but his grasp of the language isn't the best, and I'm not truly interested in hearing about his wife.

But then, comes the interesting part. He asks me how come I can speak a dead language, yet I am unable to speak the common tongue, the one used in trade that everyone is expected to know. At that moment, I realize that sometime between my time and now, French has become a dead language, as has every language on Earth, save English. English is this 'common tongue' everyone speaks, and there is no mention of Chinese, despite the fact that Mandarin was turning out to be the next big language used in business. With how important China was becoming back in my time, I would've thought Chinese would be a very important language here too.

So, yes, funnily enough, I speak a dead language that only a few obsessed history nuts can claim to speak fluently, and there is a distinct lack of information of French grammar in history, so it turns out that it is impossible to speak it as well as I do. The man I'm speaking with seems very interested in how I can possibly know it so well.

I am beyond lucky to have found anybody capable of talking with me. Basically, I am in a whole lot of trouble right now, considering the fact that I'm unable to communicate with anybody. My surprise and horror is cut short by the arrival of that blonde guy, the master of the slave I gave water to.

He looks a bit... well... I think he's worried. It's the emotion i read on his face. He says something loudly to everybody, and... I don't understand what he says, but he does repeat 'Ridik' several times. I don't know what 'Ridik' means, and the closest English word I can think of is 'ridiculous'. Perhaps he's telling everybody it's ridiculous to stay on the roof of this ship with only a few flimsy parasols to protect our skin against the glares of three suns? Well, anyway, whatever he says has everyone gasping in shock in a very theatrical manner. There's even a woman who _faints_!

I want to laugh, but I don't dare doing so.

Everybody is looking as worried as the blonde man. The man points downwards. the people on the roof start climbing down, obeying what was obviously an order from the blonde guy. I don't really see why. They even leave their drinks near their chairs, not even bothering to finish them. What a waste.

I can see that there are some people coming out of the ship. Everyone is converging on the ground, by the spot where the blonde man pointed. I think a head-count is being done. Is someone missing? Or they might be trying to see who the corpses were by process of elimination.

I follow the crowd down the ladder, careful not to drop my bag by accident. They start counting us and I can hear that the blonde slave-master, the one I dislike, is announcing something important. And then there's that little boy, the one who is apparently in a similar ID-less situation as me, who seems pretty excited and is saying something loudly, smiling.

Annoyed, I sigh.

I barely arrive on the roof of the ship, and then I'm forced back down just to listen to useless babble I don't get.

Feeling very bored, I look around for something interesting. Then, my gaze goes back up to the roof of the ship, and I'm filled with a sense of longing for the shade provided by the parasols. It's at that moment that I notice movement on the roof. My eyes focus, and I see that the slave is one the roof, sitting on one of the chairs, and drinking from one of the drinks left up there. He's wearing black goggles with darkened glasses. Despite the fact that I don't see his eyes, I'm positive he's looking at me.

I wave at him.

Moving slowly, he offers me a lazy wave back.

Hm. What a nice guy.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks to my reviewers!_

_This goes for: shadowoftheblackdeat, Flowerchild23, Quiet Slumber, Alyce DreamEater, theheartstourniquet, and two guests!_

_I love you guys so much, and I appreciate every one of your comments!_

_I should've updated earlier - generally I update every Sunday or Monday, and I didn't do that last week. I was so swamped with exams, and I just couldn't find the time. However, I managed to write something now! If I'm lucky, I might manage to squeeze another chapter in this week before leaving the country for a month (during which I am not sure if I can update)._

_So, this week I'll either update this fic, or my HP fic. I'll see._

_Do you guys really want an update of this fic, or would you not mind too much the thought of waiting? I'm a bit thorn about which fanfic I should update. I have inspiration for both, so it's mostly a question of choosing between the two._

-x-x-x-

Well, this is just great. Fantastic, really. Since, apparently, something terrible has happened, everyone has been gathered in one big group, and we are all sitting on the ground. Many are complaining, most likely about the sand and dry dirt. I assume that's what they're whining about, but they might be going on about the heat. Who knows, really. I am quite unhappy, because I am seated next to a woman who is crying and weeping, sobbing and saying something about how "Riddick's gonna kill us all!"

What a drama queen.

As I've said before, I assume that 'Ridik' is a word that has something to do with the word 'ridiculous'. They must belong to the same family of words (Like 'hungry' and 'hunger'). Since this is, from what I've seen, the future, then long words like 'ridiculous' have probably been shortened, and 'Ridik' is probably the new word for 'ridiculous'. Like how people shorten the word 'refrigerator' to 'fridge'.

So, I understand the word 'Ridik' and I understand the word 'keel' (it means to kill, to murder). I don't know what 'gonna' means, but with what I _do_ know, I can make a guess as to what this woman is wailing about:

The ridicule of... uh... _something_, will kill the people here.

That sentence seems dumb and meaningless. I probably translated something wrong.

I know that during the time many people were on the roof, that blond man, who owns the slave I gave water to, came up and said something about 'Ridik'. Maybe... Maybe the act of lying around, drinking cocktails and lazing about, is considered extremely shameful, ridiculous? Ridiculous as in, 'Ridik'? And, well, maybe it's shameful to the point of the ridicule literally killing them?

Yes, I know. It sounds stupid. But I can't exactly ask anybody what's the problem, so I have to guess.

So, since I can't do anything about whatever many people seem so worried about, I just ignore the general panic everywhere. Though, it is starting to become rather vexing, how this woman screams and shouts, as if I'm not sitting right next to her. My _hears_ are bleeding. (And yes, that was me using the English word 'ear' and mispronouncing it horribly. Us French people tend to add a 'h' in front of a lot of words.)

I can't exactly move, because there are a lot of people taking up the available space everywhere, sitting on the ground. I don't want to have to push past several people and annoy them just to find somewhere else to sit. Besides, I am rather nicely placed. Not too close to the centre, and not right at the edge, where I would not be able to hear what is happening.

Though... Now that I actually think about it, maybe it would've been more intelligent of me to sit by the edge of this gathering of people. It's not like I understand anything anyway, so why should I sit somewhere where I can hear what is being said? I feel stupid. I'll probably just have to ask questions to that guy who can speak French, later.

I should've sat further away, so that I could've left right now, and escaped this noise. I could be doing something productive! Instead, here I am, sitting around doing nothing. The only thing that breaks the monotony is the sound of the woman sobbing as if she's living her last minutes.

This situation is so annoying.

The captain of the ship, Ulf something, is talking, sounding stern. He's using words like 'risk', 'murderer', 'safety'...

Yep, you guessed it. I am still as clueless as ever, seeing as I cannot speak English. I really regret never listening in class. Maybe I should rename myself Barbie, and dye my hair blonde? At least my hair will match my cluelessness.

I really want to leave.

I look up, and notice that the slave is no longer on the roof of the ship, by the abandoned seats. He must've drunk a bit from one of the cups left up there, and then left. He's probably off cleaning or lugging stuff around, or whatever slaves are supposed to do. I don't know much about slaves, only what I heard in History class while talking about Human Rights.

Then again, I did see that Disney movie with Moses or whoever he was, the one who cuts the ocean in two and whose brother is that Egyptian guy. In that movie, slaves were generally always working on making pyramids and other monuments, and there was a lot of whipping going on.

Hm...

Now I have this _disturbing_ image in my mind of that blond guy (the one dressed a bit like a police officer) whipping the slave.

I totally knew there was something homoerotic going on here.

Captain Ulf's tone abruptly changes, and it now conveys urgency. I give him my full attention.

"The second ship will arrive soon," he says. "We just have to wait. Until then, I will ask all of you to stay here, where we can see you, so nothing happens to you. If you absolutely must leave, you must inform either me or Miss Fry here," he continues, pointing at the Carolyn Fry woman. "Please be careful. A dangerous criminal is on the loose, and I would prefer it if nothing happens."

The Captain is cut off by the blond man, the owner of the slave. He stands tall, and seems rather intimidating. I don't like him much, though I resist smiling as I remember the funny image of him whipping the slave. It's not that surprising that I don't like blondie, because I generally dislike people that make me feel uncomfortable. Intimidating people either make me feel powerless and stupid, or protected. This man is definitely one of those that make me feel tiny and unworthy of notice.

He says, staring at us all:

"Riddick is _very_ dangerous. I captured him, so trust me when I say, he's a criminal you _don't_ want to cross. He could kill you before you even realize he's there. So stay together. If you leave, alone or even in a group that is too small, it won't be my responsibility if you die. You are warned. Look after the children, so that they don't leave by themselves. Riddick is a ruthless murderer, and he won't hesitate to ghost you."

I recognize some words, but nothing useful. He must be talking about the whole 'so much shame and ridicule that it kills you'. Or maybe I misunderstood the whole thing? I don't know. I don't care all that much.

It seems that they've stopped speaking, and many people are standing up. They are either dusting themselves off, or talking to their neighbours. Many are looking around nervously. I try to follow their gazes, wondering what I'm missing here.

Judging by their panic, I wouldn't be surprised if flesh-eating, hot pink puppies came out of nowhere to eat us all.

A few seconds pass, and no puppies arrive.

... These people must be paranoid over nothing.

(I admit I am disappointed there are no puppies.)

I wish I weren't alone here. I wish I was with a friend, or a family member. I feel so lonely, and a bit depressed.

My family... I've had long periods where I haven't seen them. Sometimes I'm out of the country, visiting my grandparents, and I don't see my parents or siblings for several weeks. But, the fact that I'm here, in an unfamiliar place with no way back to my family any time soon, makes it all seem worse. I feel as if I haven't seen my parents in years, though I know that it hasn't even been a day since I last saw my mum.

Seeing as everybody is just talking, standing around and doing nothing useful, I decide to move, _leave_, since this isn't very interesting. But, just as I start moving away, towards the ship, there are exclamations all around me. People are starting to look updwards.

I look up, and see a tiny, tiny _dot_ in the sky. It's steadily growing bigger and larger.

The excitement of those around me is swelling. I use my hand to shield my eyes from the strong glare of the sun, and I try to make out what the dot is.

It grows bigger, and after five minutes, I can already begin to make out its shape. I'm not quite sure, but I think it's another ship.

Has it come to help us?

I believe so. After all, everyone around me seems very happy, which must most likely mean that this new ship is good news.

Since our spaceship was damaged, and the captain obviously radio-called for help, another ship must've been sent to aid us off this planet.

Finally, after an additional ten minutes, the ship is within a hundred meters of our ship. It's surprising, because it seems it took only fifteen minutes for the ship to arrive here. Before that, it was just a small speck, and now I can see it landing. I wonder... Shouldn't the speed this ship was moving at, shouldn't it be such that the ship should be, rightfully, nothing but _scrap metal_ right now? Burnt scrap metal, at that.

According to what I think, this ship was moving faster than a meteorite would have been if it were crashing on this planet. And the meteorite would have been on fire. Why is this ship okay? Moving at such speeds is physically impossible.

Now that I think about it, any normal travelling space ship wouldn't be very useful for travelling from one solar system to another, considering how far apart each system is. It would take a gazillion years to go from one solar system to another. The future must have technology that enables ships to move faster than the speed of light, without any repercussions. I would be so very interested in knowing how they do it.

I stop thinking about it as the big spaceship finishes landing. It opens up, and allows a trickle of people to pour out. There are about five of them, all men, and they form a long line in front of the ship. They are wearing similar clothes, meaning they must be in uniform, though it is no uniform I recognize, obviously.

The captain goes to talk to them, and I feel happy as I take in the sight of these new people. It means that the situation is about to change. Normally I would be frightened, since it would mean there would be more chances of me being discovered as an anomaly with no ID, but to be perfectly honest, I was starting to become really bored of sitting 'round here.

The thought of things changing has me perking up.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to dragynfyre18, Alyce DreamEater, Flowerchild23, Gremlin Jack, shadowoftheblackdeat, Pirateweasel, WendyLeaf, BrySt1, Bloody-Asphode11 and two guests for their kind comments! Wow. I think this is the first time I got so many comments for one chapter, in _all_ of my stories.

I wrote this down on Word in less that 30 minutes! Well... I had already written it all on a sheet of paper, which makes my achievement somewhat less impressive...

-x-x-x-

So, this is super cool. The new spaceship that has arrived is the one who's probably coming to save us all. The people who came out of it earlier (I've counted them properly this time, and there are six of them) are rounding up everyone, and from what I can guess, asking for our help in carrying stuff around. A lot of the people I've seen and interacted with, the ones from the broken spaceship, are grumbling and stuff because they're being forced to carry heavy objects.

What they are doing is basically taking things from the second spaceship, the recent arrival, to the first. It's all electronics and stuff, so it must be for repairs. One guy from the second spaceship tried to make me do something useful, except when he realized I couldn't understand a word out of his mouth, he basically just left me alone. I believe he told his colleagues to do so too, because nobody has bothered me since.

I look around and, since I don't know what to do, I wonder if I should just go back into the spaceship, as there's less sun there. Right now I'm sweating way too much and I prefer avoiding any more burning sunrays before I begin stinking the whole place up with my body odours.

Unfortunately, everybody is moving about in the first spaceship, the one that crash landed. So, in order to be in peace, I decide to head towards the second one. In case I'm not allowed to go there (I wouldn't know, since, well, _duh_. No English), I'll just play the 'clueless foreigner' card, and hopefully they'll let me go. I don't think I'm doing anything terrible, and I'd rather head towards the new spaceship that is virtually empty of people, than enter the first one, full of people moving about and carrying stuff.

Discretely, I head for the second spaceship, making sure no one sees me, because while I think that I'm not doing anything wrong, it might be, not-allowed or even against the law to enter a repair spaceship (help-spaceship? Whatever are they called?), and I'd rather not be scolded, thank you very much.

You might ask yourself: Why am I going in if it might not be allowed?

The answer? This desert is killing me, and I need out of this heat.

Nobody sees me. I go inside and notice immediately that this spaceship is fundamentally different from the one I woke up in, when I first came to this strange, futuristic land. It… Well, this ship is smaller, for one, and there's a lot less space. I don't see any of those rooms with those plexiglass coffins, and the walls are covered in leather belts with buckles and stuff, like some kind of leatbelts in case of turbulence.

I look around, not knowing what to do to occupy my mind.

Generally, I always bring a book, or my phone, with me whenever I leave the house, even if it's just to buy some groceries. I love reading, you see, and I'm one of those that read ginormous texts in no time at all, literally devouring it all. That is why, as I am right now… It is not something I am used to. My phone has very little battery, and I didn't think to bring a book.

Though luck.

I move about inside the ship, and try to find a nice place to sit down. It's dark, and I have trouble seeing clearly (my glasses are dusty), so I simply settle down on the floor. As I do so, I accidently disturb somebody. I look over, a "_désolée_" already on my lips, when I see a boy there.

Oops. I might've unknowingly sat on his hand.

"Sorry," I say.

The boy says something. It takes a few seconds for me to realize what it is:

"It's okay."

I think he just said 'no problem', or a variant. The word 'okay' is in it, so it can't be anything else.

Time to use my fantastic English skills to make a good first impression.

"Hello!" I chirp, smiling brightly.

I must've committed some sort of faux-pas, because the boy looks at me like I'm deranged. I attempt to rectify this by pointing at myself, and saying my name.

The boy points at himself and says, very slowly (as if talking to a child):

"Jack."

Uh. This is all very 'Me Tarzan, you Jane'.

The kid looks kind of cute in a kid-ish way, and appears to be in his early teens, at most. We shake hands, and just as we do so, the whole ship starts moving. I fall down, and the boy, Jack, nearly does the same. Luckily, he manages to catch himself on time to avoid flattening me. He has managed to grip one of the countless thick belts hanging off the walls for support.

The ship is _moving_.

_Why?!_

Don't tell me… We're taking off?!

I barely have the time to let out a little gasp, before I feel _it_. The ship _disconnecting_ from the ground, going up in the air. I didn't mean for this to happen. Why is the ship flying away? Nobody came back in it, and they haven't finished repairing the first ship! So why? Nobody should be in it, except for me and the kid!

Jack seems just as surprised as me. It could mean that either he is completely ignorant, _or_, this ship isn't supposed to be flying away.

I finally manage to get back back up on my two feet.

"You okay?" I ask the boy (Jack, have to remember his name, _Jack_).

Gosh, I really hope my English is understandable enough.

Jack nods, and he heads towards a door next to us. I don't know where it leads off to, but Jack seems to know what he's doing, so I follow. He presses on some sort of keypad next to it, and the door opens.

We enter a slightly larger room. I see it is the piloting room, to command the spaceship. Seated in the pilot's ship is the bald man, the one with the strange… sun-goggles. And he's piloting the ship, away from the planet we were on.

Abruptly, the man becomes aware of our presence, and so he lobs something at us from over his shoulder. I barely move in time to avoid an enormous knife. It sinks, inches from being hilt-deep, _into the metal wall. _God, I don't want to know how much strength that took.

I squeak, extremely scared.

"What are you _doing_?!" asks Jack. "This, this ship isn't supposed to leave! The others still need things off it!"

The slave, who is still piloting, says:

"I wasn't planning on waitin', kid."

His voice is super deep, a beautiful bass that makes me, as a member of a choir and Soprano, want to hear him _sing_. Unfortunately, it would be rude if I asked the man to sing for me. And it would be creepy.

I don't get what's happening. I just know that the slave has an a-may-zing voice.

Jack seems enraged, and yet _happy_ at the same time. I didn't know that mix was possible. He's looking at the slave in awe, as if the man is something special (yes, he has a great voice, but he can't be that exceptional, right?), and at the same time, the tone of Jack's voice shows his anger. He's very unhappy indeed, with something beyond my comprehension.

"You've doomed them all! They will die on that planet!" Jack shouts.

The man simply scoffs.

"It's them, or me. Guess which I chose?"

"You can't just do that!" Jack says, looking personally betrayed. "That's…" He doesn't seem to be able to find the right word. "That's _mean_."

"Tell me, boy, what, exactly, did you expect? I'm a criminal, on the run. Did you really _think_ I'd allow those people the chance to come after me? There's a reason why I was put behind bars, and that ain't 'cause I'm all about saving puppies and smiling and shit."

From where I am, I can see a faint smirk on his face. Still, it doesn't help me in the least when it comes to guess the topic of conversation.

Jack seems to have lost his words. He opens his mouth soundlessly, and nothing comes out but air.

I decide to interrupt this, because it feels tense and angry, as if Jack is about to start shrieking like a girl at the slave.

"Hello," I say, trying to smile brighter than when I'd introduced myself to Jack (because that last time hadn't gone too well). Like previously, I introduce myself by pointing at my body and saying my name. Then, I add for his benefit: "No speak English."

The bald man turns around, just for a second. His earlier smirk is still present on his face, and he looks even more amused.

"What is this?" he asks. He looks me up and down, then turns to Jack. "Is she one of those… _slow_ people?"

"Don't talk about her like that!" says Jack. "It's not her fault; she doesn't speak English."

Well, apparently my try at dissolving the tension didn't work, because they're still fighting. But just as I've nearly given up on trying for a discussion, the man looks at me again, and says:

"Richard. Richard Riddick."

I recognize 'Richard'. It's a name. And I have heard 'Riddick' a lot – is it his surname? Or something else? Since I am not sure, and it would be rude to call him 'Riddick' if it is not his surname, I decide for a compromise.

"Hello Richard!" I say, my smile back on my face again.

The man snorts, as if I've said the funniest thing in the world.

"Yeah," he says. "Real bright, that one."

Since, from his amused expression, I must've made a good impression, I simply beam wider.

This room has a huge rectangular window. Since the room is circular, the window basically shows outer-space from every side _but_ where the door Jack and I came in from is. If I angle my head just right, I can see the desertic planet I was on barely moments ago. It's grown very small.

Suddenly, I feel very scared indeed. What will happen to me now? Where am I going to go? How will I feed myself? Where will I sleep? I won't be on this ship forever – at some point, we will land, and I will be stranded in a populated area, without money, food or lodgings.

I can't even convey my distress to these people due to the language barrier. Jack is only a child, and won't be able to do much. But Richard seems like a nice, understanding man. Being a slave himself, he must know how it is, to live with no money, and could probably help me. But he looks so very intimidating. I can barely form a coherent English sentence, and I don't think I'd have it in me to ask for his help.

I also wish to ask… well… Where are we going? But, stuck with my French, I can't do anything.

Jack and Richard are arguing again. I feel put out, and excluded from the conversation. I don't want to let it show. Instead, I head for the door, to return to the other room. I open it, and turn to the two others.

"Buh-bye!" I say.

And, funnily enough, Jack looks at me and Richard twists around from the pilot's chair to do the same, and they both hold the exact same incredulous expressions, as if I did something completely unreal.

I give a little awkward wave, wiggling my fingers at Richard, who's eyebrows are climbing even higher up, and leave the room.


End file.
